Get A Job
by Twist
Summary: Havelock Vetinari, recently graduated Assassin, gets caught up in his friend's relationship and financial issues. Sort of on the same line as Chronicles of a Social Outcast. Songfic to The Offspring's Why Don't You Get a Job. T for mild swearing.


Get A Job

By: Twist

A/n: Did this late at night for kicks. Songfic to The Offspring's "Why Don't You Get a Job". Read and enjoy please. Reviews are also nice. And, as though I even need to say anything, Havelock is out of character. As usual. Also, sorry about the song lyrics. FF.N is pretty weird and won't let me single-space them.

Disclaimer: I own only Wayne Broquelin and Kristie. Also, to an extent, the plot. The song, and the idea behind said song belong to The Offspring. Havelock, Madam, Scoone Avenue, and everything else you recognize belong to Terry Pratchett.

Havelock was . . . to be honest, he was still slightly in shock. Not only had he graduated, he managed to scrape his grades together and earn top ranks in his class. He was tremendously proud of himself, as well as amazed at how faulty the system at the Guild must be for something like that to happen. But no matter, he was out of school, young, unemployed, and - though he would not often openly admit this - obscenely rich. The world was his oyster.

The same could not be said for his friend and partner in crime, Wayne Broquelin. Late in their seventh year, Wayne had decided that he didn't really want to be an Assassin and had dropped out of the program two weeks before finals. Since then he had been trawling Ankh-Morpork for a job as a pianist. Havelock knew Wayne would have loved to be the pianist at one of those posh balls, but why would a rich noble looking to throw the perfect party bother to hire some unknown young man when there were more established pianists all around the city? So Wayne had been wandering the streets, hitting the clubs, looking for a steady job, and intermittently doing jobs Havelock was slightly repulsed any Guild-trained gentleman would lower himself to for mere money. While Wayne had not found a job or much money (especially since his parents, overcome with disappointment, had cut off his funds) he had found a girlfriend. She was pretty, and passably intelligent. Wayne had been living with her, but a month or so after Havelock graduated Wayne mentioned that funds were ridiculously low, and there was a definite question mark over the topic of 'housing'.

Contrary to popular belief, Havelock Vetinari does have a heart. This was why he, overcome with pity for the one who had helped him torch many an unsuspecting inanimate object, offered Wayne and his girlfriend a place to stay. Hours later Wayne had shown up on Havelock's doorstep with his girlfriend and all of their worldly possessions, contained in a steamer trunk. The servants had been delighted that there were more people living in the old Scoone Avenue house. Not that Master Havelock was unkind, oh no, but he never required much, vanished at odd times, and had a very unnerving way of showing up right next to you when you were sure you were alone. The current staff rumor was that Havelock's father was actually an Igor.

Over the months - three to be exact - Havelock got to know Wayne's girlfriend. Her name was Kristie, and though Havelock remained resolutely uninterested in her romantic advancements, he had to admit she was pretty. A tall brunette with a curving figure, she was certainly an eye-catcher. There were times Havelock was grateful she lived in the same house - most specifically when she was making her way down the hall from the bath, wrapped in a towel that always seemed to cover too much and not enough all at once. She looked good, no objections to that, but Havelock found her - to a point - irritating. She was smart enough to handle basic arithmetic and had a grasp of the Morporkian language, but the wonders of Stealth Chess would always tragically evade her. Havelock couldn't forgive her for that.

Kristie was also lazy. Perhaps terminally so. Whenever Havelock was home, she was too. Supposedly she went shopping, because Wayne often complained of how quickly their meager funds disappeared. Havelock would always listen, though he was unsure of how welcome his advice would be. So he kept his opinions to himself. He did, anyway, until one afternoon when Wayne was, once again, bitterly complaining about Kristie and her spending habits.

"It's like she thinks money grows on trees," he said, running his hands through his hair. Havelock raised an eyebrow and did not look up from the cards he was shuffling. Both young men were seated at the breakfast table, candles scattered around them as the rain pounded the windows. "I mean, here I am, working and all that, and she's at home all day, or shopping and spending all of our money. Maybe I should dump her," he grumbled.

"Mmm," said Havelock, dealing out six cards to each player and laying the excess face down as the draw pile. Neither touched their dealt hand.

"Dammit!" Wayne exclaimed, slapping the table. "I'll never get anyone as beautiful as she is."

"Are you ready to play?" Havelock asked politely. Wayne nodded distractedly. "Mao is now in session," Havelock said. Both of them picked up their cards and observed.

Havelock loved Mao; it was the only card game he knew of where the rules dictated you must play in complete silence. These days, he found himself proposing more and more games to Wayne; not that he didn't like his company, but because one could only hear about Kristie so much. Mao was like a card-castle of sanctuary.

Eventually, though, it had to end. As soon as Havelock laid down his last card, Wayne threw his hand down. "We have _no_ money," he burst out. "What do we do? She's got to stop shopping."

Havelock shrugged neutrally and gathered the cards. He began shuffling again as the rain pounded the windows and Wayne stared off into space.

"What would _you_ do?" Wayne said at last.

Havelock looked up, somewhat startled. "Me?" Wayne nodded encouragingly. "Er, well . . ."

"Oh, go on, you always have ideas about this sort of thing," Wayne urged.

_My friend's got a girlfriend_

_Man he hates that bitch_

_He tells me every day_

_He says "man I really gotta lose my chick_

_In the worst kind of way"_

"Well, do you still like her?" he asked, lamely. He knew the answer.

"She's beautiful, Lucky. And I think I love her," Wayne scoffed. "I mean, if we can get some money, I really think she's the one."

"Okay," he said, shuffling. "Well, you go out and look for work don't you? I mean, couldn't you do that _and_ have another job that pays?"

"I do have jobs that pay," Wayne said. "She just spends all of the money. And she doesn't do _squat_. I'm out working and trying to support her, and she's always at home. I mean, do you see her leave? Ever? I mean, other than when she leaves to go buy stuff."

"Well, no," Havelock conceded.

"So what do I do?" Wayne cried, exasperated. "We have no money, it's only thanks to you that we have a roof over our heads, and she just stays under that roof! And when she isn't under said roof, she's out spending every last hard-earned penny we've got!"

Havelock thought about that. He wasn't sure how hard earned the pennies were; Wayne never said much about what sort of work he did for the money. But no matter, Wayne was looking at him expectantly. Best to think of a possible solution, quickly.

_She sits on her ass _

_He works his hands to the bone_

_To give her money every payday_

_But she wants more dinero just to stay at home_

_Well my friend _

_You gotta say_

"Well, if it's true that she never leaves except to shop -"

"- It is -"

"- Then perhaps you could take a leaf out of your parents' book," Havelock finished.

"Tell her how disappointed I am?" Wayne grunted. "Yeah, that'll work."

"No, no," Havelock said, shuffling the cards more rapidly as his brain worked feverishly to think of a way to bring a peaceful end to this mess. "I mean, cut off all of her funds. Tell her if she wants to shop, she has to earn the money."

"Would that work?" Wayne asked, eyes wide. "I mean, when we started dating I told her all of my money is her money because I love her so much. Trust, you know?" Havelock fought the urge to gag. "Do you think she'd dump me?"

"Either way, problem solved," Havelock said with a shrug.

_I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way_

_na-na, Why don't you get a job?_

_Say no way, say no way ya, no way_

_na-na, why don't you get a job?_

"She'll never buy it," Wayne said morosely.

"Tell her she could shop more if she got a job."

"Hah!" Wayne crowed. "Her? A job? Ludicrous. _I'm_ the man; I have to get the money. I mean, that's the way she sees it."

"Well, she's stomping on your manliness," Havelock said, on somewhat more solid footing here. Wayne was very proud of his manliness. Havelock just needed to exploit it. "She's controlling you, man. Using you like a carthorse. She sees keeping you as a means of getting money! If you tell her no more, she'll either leave you - solving the problem of having a controlling woman - or be astounded by your sheer power of Man and obey your every whim - ending the problem of shopping."

"Yeah," Wayne said, his eyes glazing over. "I will show her the awesome power and strength of the Man."

"That's it," Havelock said, satisfied that perhaps it had worked.

"Thanks!" Wayne said. He jumped up from the table and strutted from the room, leaving Havelock alone to shuffle cards.

_I guess all his money, well it isn't enough_

_To keep her bill collectors at bay_

_I guess all his money, well, it isn't enough_

_Cause that girl's got expensive taste_

Three weeks later, Havelock woke up at the crack of noon to the sight of an anxious servant leaning over him. He jumped, imperceptibly. "Something wrong?" he asked groggily.

"There's a bill collector at the door," the woman said, wringing her hands. "He says he's here for Mr. Broquelin, sir."

"Isn't Wayne around?" Havelock said, yawning.

"No sir. Neither is Miss Kristie. I thought you'd best deal with it."

"Alright," Havelock muttered. He stumbled unceremoniously from his bed. About halfway down the stairs, he realized he had gone to sleep in his clothes again. 'That needs to stop,' he thought, trying sleepily to smooth out the wrinkles. 'Though it does save time on getting dressed in the morning.'

At the back door there was a small, jumped-up looking man with a briefcase. He nodded when he saw Havelock and scowled, as if disappointed by the class of person he was faced with. "Mr. Broquelin?" he said tightly.

"Lord Vetinari actually," Havelock said, stifling a yawn. "Mr. Broquelin's not in right now. Something I can help you with?"

"Deepest apologies, your Lordship," the man said quickly. Havelock loved how people reacted to the whole 'Lordship' bit. "I am Mr. Johansson from the Morporkian Tax Agency. Mr. Broquelin has some outstanding debts that are . . . of some concern. I was wondering if I could speak to him about it."

"Not in," Havelock repeated. "How much does he owe?"

"Er . . . I'm not sure I'm authorized to tell you, your Lordship . . ."

Havelock raised an eyebrow. While what would later in his life be known as The Stare was still in the development stages, it was still terrifying enough to shake the little taxman.

"Eight thousand Morporkian dollars, sir," the man said smoothly. Havelock coughed mid-yawn and tried to cover up the fact that he was choking.

"Eight _thousand_? What the hell does he owe that on?"

"Mainly a yellow ball gown, sir, among other things," the man said. Havelock suspected that the man was laughing at him secretly. He stared at him for a moment.

"I'll pass the message on," he said once the man had become suitably uncomfortable. "Thank you for your time."

"Thanks to you, your Lordship," the man said as he bowed himself down the path.

Havelock closed the door and leaned against it, a bemused expression on his face. Eight thousand dollars was a lot of money. This could make things a bit . . . complicated.

_I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way_

_na-na, Why don't you get a job?_

_Say no way, say no way ya, no way_

_na-na, why don't you get a job?_

"_Eight thousand dollars?_" Wayne roared. "What the hell did she spend eight thousand dollars on?"

"Apparently it was mainly a yellow ball gown. Although he did mention there were other things," Havelock said.

"A yellow . . . What in the _hell_ is she going to use a yellow ball gown for?" Wayne was furious, and this was bad. He was, after all, trained by the Assassin's Guild. He made a habit of carrying many sharp, deadly things on his person at all times.

"I don't know?" Havelock said meekly, trying to sidle from the room without it being noticeable.

"Where is she?" Wayne growled, chest heaving.

"I don't know," Havelock said, and then, feeling responsible, followed Wayne out of the room. "Did you talk to her?"

"Yes!" he snarled. "I told her to either get a job or quit it with the shopping. She said she was working, had some money. Gods, was I stupid."

"Wayne, maybe she doesn't really know how much everything cost," Havelock said, pleading slightly. "I mean, no one sane spends eight thousands dollars just like that. Maybe she thought it was eight hundred . . ."

"Eight hundred would still have been bad! Kristie! Where are you?"

"Wayne, listen to me." Havelock grabbed his friend by the shoulders of his tunic and flattened him against the wall. "I don't know what you're going to do to her, but don't you dare hurt her. Make her leave, whatever, but if you even go to lay a finger on her . . ." he paused, realizing he was falling in to the Knight in Shining Armor role, which Kristie would love. He backtracked. "I can fix this," he said quietly. "I can get you two out of debt and then whatever happens happens. But his isn't a huge, unfixable thing. I have enough money."

Wayne sighed. "I wasn't going to hurt her, you know," he said, somewhat resentful. "I just need to talk to her. This is about the principle of the thing, Lucky. I pulled Manliness on her and she went against me. Something has to happen. And don't you dare give me or her a dime." He paused. "Especially her."

_Well I guess it ain't easy doing nothing at all_

_But hey man free rides just don't come along_

_every day_

"Something the matter?" Havelock turned to behold Kristie, sopping wet, in all of her towel-clad glory.

"Er . . ." he managed as he let go of Wayne.

"Kristie, how do you like your new ball gown?" Wayne asked tightly.

"What?" she asked, her head tilting sideways. Her eyes grew wide. "Oh! The new yellow one. It's lovely, thanks. I've always wanted a nice on of my own," she said with a grin.

"Where do you plan on wearing it?" Wayne said slowly. If Kristie were brighter, she would have sensed that he was not as cheerful as he was trying to be. Havelock slipped in to a shadow.

"Oh, I don't know," she said lightly, flipping her wet hair over her shoulder. "Always good to have one around, you know?"

"Kristie," Wayne said carefully, trying visibly not to shout (not that Kristie noticed), "I doubt very much that we will ever be invited to a ball if you don't stop shopping."

"What do you mean?" she asked, eyes wide.

"Kristie, we have no money," Wayne said, voice rising. "You spent it all on your damn silly things. I told you three weeks ago to stop shopping because we were low on cash! And what do you do? _Buy a ball gown!_"

"I had no idea!" she gasped. "I'll return it tomorrow!"

"You'd better!" Wayne growled. "And from now on my funds and your funds are separate! And we will both be paying rent to Lord Vetinari!" he shouted, pointing to Havelock, who winced.

"You don't have to . . ." he said quietly.

"Yes we do! There is no such thing as a free ride!" he snarled. Then he snorted, turned on his heel, and stormed off to another room. Havelock sighed softly.

"I'm sorry," Kristie muttered before she trudged back upstairs.

_Let me tell you about my other friend now_

Weeks passed and the tension in the house was so thick Havelock could hardly breathe freely. Wayne and Kristie were not speaking, and Havelock had been elected Messenger Boy. While it wasn't like he was being inconvenienced, it was still annoying. He knocked on Kristie's door. In his hand he had an envelope with a bill in it; the total split exactly in two. He didn't know what it was for, and he didn't care. He had yet to charge them rent, though his sock drawer would occasionally turn up a conspicuous ten-dollar bill from time to time.

"Come in," came the slightly muffled voice from the other side of the door. Havelock opened the door slowly, only to find the room beyond totally dark. The curtains were drawn and no candles were lit. He swallowed quietly.

"Kristie?" he called softly. "I have something for you from Wayne . . ." A violent sob sounded at the name. "Er," Havelock said.

"Oh, Havelock!" Suddenly there was a female form up against him, arms wrapped around his neck. Unsure of what to do, he patted her back. "I feel dreadful!" she declared.

"There, there," Havelock said, clueless as to how to handle the situation.

"Wayne was the best thing that ever happened to me," she sobbed. "At least, I thought so. But now we don't have any money because he spent it all and if he's not shouting at me he's not speaking to me at all! I don't even have enough left to pay you rent!"

"You don't have to," Havelock said quickly. Then he paused while the girl sobbed into his chest. Discreetly, he pushed the door shut. "You say he spent all the money?"

"Yes!" she said bitterly. "I'm just buying a few things for myself, no more than I can afford, and he's out there spending extravagantly! You know what he bought a few weeks ago?"

"No . . ."

"A guitar!" she wailed. "He doesn't even play guitar! And all after he reamed me out for shopping too much! It was a nice guitar, too!"

"I did not know that," Havelock said, genuinely surprised.

"I work at the Klatchian take-out during the nights, you know, earning plenty of money for me, and he just lazes around! He never leaves the house but to go buy things during the day!"

"I actually think he's looking for jobs," Havelock said, confused.

"He's spent all of our money!" she howled, sobbing harder. "Now he doesn't even talk to me! What are we going to do?"

_My friend's got a boyfriend, man she hates that dick_

_She tells me every day_

_He wants more dinero just to stay at home_

_Well my friend_

_You gotta say_

"I think it's probably good that you're keeping your funds separated," Havelock said, the entirety of the situation becoming clear. He had known no one could spend eight thousand dollars by themselves, but he had simply assumed Wayne was right. He never thought to look at his friend for another cause of the problem. "Maybe you just need to each get back on your own financial feet again," he said gently. "It would also help, I think, if you started speaking to one another again."

Kristie looked up at him, meager light glinting off her tears. "You always make so much sense," she said. "But how will I ever get him to speak to me again?"

Havelock shrugged. "Start a saving's account or something. Pay off debts. Something that will make him notice your financial independence."

Kristie stood up on tiptoe and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I should have started dating you instead. You're so smart."

"Er, I think I have an appointment with my aunt," Havelock said quickly. He made to leave. Kristie let go reluctantly.

"Thanks for the advice," she said, grinning weakly. "I'll have some money for you by the end of the week."

"Don't worry about it," he said firmly. He heard the door close behind him, and slipped out of the nearest window. He needed time to think.

_I won't pay, I won't pay ya, no way_

_na-na, Why don't you get a job?_

_Say no way, say no way ya, no way_

_na-na, why don't you get a job?_

A month passed, and Havelock was paid regular rent from both Kristie and Wayne, despite his protests. Both were speaking to each other again, and no debt collectors had come to call. Havelock had started to spend less time in the house; most of his time was spent bent over books on politics in his aunt's sitting room. One morning, when he was on his way out, Wayne and Kristie cornered him.

"Where are you off to?" Wayne asked nonchalantly.

"Studying," Havelock replied shortly.

"Hmm, that's no fun," Kristie pouted. "Anyway, we wouldn't want to keep you, but we have some great news."

"Oh?" Havelock said politely. Wayne blushed slightly.

"We're, er, we'll be . . ." he shuffled his feet slightly.

"We're getting married!" Kristie squealed. "We both have jobs and plenty of money and hardly any debt, so we're going to try sharing funds again!" She jumped a little and kissed Wayne on the cheek.

"Oh. Congratulations," Havelock said.

"And, er, the other thing is we'll be moving out," Wayne said, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's more work out Pseudopolis way, and we've decided to settle down out there."

"Good for you," Havelock said uncertainly. "I'll be sorry to see you go, of course."

"Nah, you won't," Wayne said. "We've been nothing but trouble for you. And what with you trying to become Patrician and all, we'd just get in the way."

"No, I mean it," Havelock said firmly. "You two are probably the last friends I will have for a while, I think."

"Patricians can't have friends?" Kristie asked. Havelock sighed internally; some things never change.

"Anyway, thanks for everything," Wayne said, extending his hand. "Sorry you had to put up with us."

"Seriously, it was no problem," Havelock said, shaking Wayne's hand with a slight grin. "Don't worry about it."

"Good luck at being Patrician," Kristie said, giving Havelock a peck on the cheek. Wayne didn't even flinch. "I know you'll get the job. It's about time Ankh-Morpork had someone with half a brain in charge."

"Thanks," Havelock said, grinning. "Good luck to you two, as well." He nodded to them and stepped outside. "Keep in touch, please? I have a feeling I'm going to be very lonely."

"Will do," Wayne said solemnly, though he was grinning. "Thanks and good luck."

Havelock turned and walked off down the path, smiling to himself. He would make sure, if he ever had an inauguration ball, that he would have a very well paid pianist. And, of course, said pianist's lovely wife would be invited as well.

_I won't give you no money, I always pay_

_na-na, Why don't you get a job?_

_Say no way, say no way ya, no way_

_na-na, Why don't you get a job?_


End file.
